


blinded by faith, I couldn't hear (all the whispers, the warnings so clear)

by violent_ends



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Devil wings, Devil wings reveal, Eden flashbacks, Episode: s04e07 Devil Is as Devil Does, F/M, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Needs A Hug, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Whump, Sexual Content, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:23:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21719260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violent_ends/pseuds/violent_ends
Summary: Eve walks in on Lucifer seeing his Devil wings for the first time.
Relationships: Eve/Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 99





	blinded by faith, I couldn't hear (all the whispers, the warnings so clear)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redledgers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redledgers/gifts).

> title lyrics from _Angels_ by Within Temptation

Shards of painted glass lay at Eve's feet, a broom clutched in her hands as she surveys the damage left behind by Tiernan's men, or more accurately, by Lucifer’s thunderous wrath when he dealt with them. She gathered them all in one place to later throw them into a bag and dispose of them: not exactly a priority, but something she can easily take care of, and she likes taking care of things, of _him_.

Hints of the religious imagery adorning the glass are still visible, and she almost feels like she’s cleaning up the floors of a church that just got bombed, of a holy place desecrated by greedy pillagers. Maybe she is. Neither of them is a saint at this point, but there _is_ an aura of sanctity to the penthouse, detached and isolated like a monastery on top of a snowy mountain top.

She wonders if some sort of spell just broke. She wonders if she’ll ever feel safe again, up here, in this earthly sanctuary she found among these impossibly tall buildings reaching up for a sky they’ll never reach, not truly, not in the one way that matters – the way she achieved but turned away from in favor of the pleasures of this world, _his_ world.

“No, no, no, _no_” she hears from the bathroom, where Lucifer retreated to get ready – a solo mission, this time, but it’s fine, nothing’s going to change between them, it’s _fine_.

Except for the fact that he doesn’t seem to be.

“Lucifer?” Eve calls in alarm, leaving the broom against the wall to walk up the steps to the bedroom and quickly cross the space separating them.

_He can’t be hurt, not physically_, she thinks as she wonders what the matter might be, _because_ she _is not here_. And it’s not like Eve _wants_ him to be hurt, but the thought sits heavy and unwelcomed in her chest all the same, this proof of a connection that isn’t in her grasp no matter how hard she tries.

Lucifer doesn’t seem to have heard her, so she calls again, “Hey, is everything alright in there?” but doesn’t think of waiting for his reply before pushing the sliding door of the bathroom to the side.

Her first thought is, maybe she should have.

Lucifer turns around abruptly from where he was staring at himself in the mirror, eyes wide and _terrified_, hands twitching restlessly at his sides. The motion knocks bottles and toiletries to the floor – no, not the motion in itself, the _wings_.

“Lucifer, what-" Eve tries, but can’t even finish the sentence as one hand flies to her mouth in shock. _What’s going on? What are these? What’s happened to you?_

_What have_ I _done to you?_

“Get out" Lucifer chokes out, taking one step back. “Eve, get out.”

Stupidly enough, she finds herself focusing on their toothbrushes on the floor for a moment, instead of the monstrous leathery wings that are staring her right in the face. _I'll have to replace them_, she thinks dumbly, _he won’t want to use his anymore even if I wash it as thoroughly as I can_.

Her eyes travel back up along his bare and panting chest, perfectly smooth and untouched by the multiple bullets they fired at him, then stop to take in his manic expression. She just caught him mid-discovery, she realizes, and her heart breaks.

“It’s- it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay, just- let me help you" she blurts out, reaching out as if to calm a frightened animal, even though she doesn’t have the faintest idea of what is there to be done to help him.

She never had the faintest idea about a lot of things, when it came to him.

  
  


_“Are you a bird like the ones my husband hunts to feed us?” she asks once she works up the courage to step out from behind the tree and into the clearing where the strange flying man landed. “You don’t look like a bird to me.”_

_He chuckles, feathers shaking oh-so-prettily with it and shining under the sun. Eve knows they are called “wings", but she’s never seen a pair so big, so beautiful, so majestic. Adam tries to be gentle with his preys, almost reverent when he plucks the feathers out so he can cook the meat, but the act feels wrong and blasphemous now._

_“You’re funny" the probably-not-a-bird simply says, cocking his head to the side in curiosity. “I get it now, what He sees in you.”_

_“Who?”_

_“My Father" he answers, then smiles in a way that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Well, technically yours, too.”_

_“Does this mean we’re brother and sister?” Eve inquires, bouncing up on her feet – she knows she was created for Adam by the Lord, and so were all the plants and creatures of the Garden, but she didn’t know there were other beings out there, other children of God like her._

_When he laughs, she feels a bit stupid, but then his expression softens and smooths into something that looks like fondness; something she isn’t sure she’s ever seen on Adam's face, now._

_“Oh no, darling, we most certainly are not" he chastises her, a glint of playful mischief in his eyes._

_When he steps closer, his huge wings dragging behind him on the grass, Eve knows he'll be her downfall._

  
  


But she was wrong. Always has been.

Because it’s the other way around.

“Help me?” Lucifer scoffs, a strangled, ugly sound. “We- we _did_ this, don’t you see? A man is _dead_ because of what we did! _You_ could have died, and the Detective’s child, too!”

“I-"

_You will always have it in you. You’re the Devil._

And he is. He is, and it never scared her. It doesn’t, even now. But this isn’t what she wanted. This- this sadness and despair. She just wanted him to be what he was always meant to be. She just wanted him to be _happy_, and she thought he was – happy and content with his dopey smile at the thought of punishing evil with her, two shadows in the night righting the wrongs of the world before the sun comes out.

Once again, Eve failed to learn her lesson, thinking there would be no consequences. Mostly, she realizes, she barely ever thinks at all.

  
  


_His wings circle around her to wrap them both in a cocoon as she rocks in his lap almost lazily, as if they had all the time in the world, as if there was no one else they should be worrying about. She’s been gone from the hut for too long and it’s suspicious, it’s risky, it’s dangerous; too bad she doesn’t care anymore._

_The spray of the waterfall they are hiding behind sends drops of water their way, little beads catching in Lucifer’s hair, wetting her fingers where she’s clutching at his dark, dark locks. The loud noise of the water crashing down into the pond muffles the sounds they’re making, high inside a cave only he could have reached, but not deep enough to conceal them from eyes that see everything, judge everything._

_Yet Eve can’t find it in herself to be sorry as wet, ruffled feathers tickle her cheek, her arms, her back; as Lucifer whimpers with his head tucked in the crook of her neck, even more overwhelmed than she is by the revelation this is turning out to be. He talked a lot, in the clearing, but he’s out of words now; out of smug retorts and jokes and chuckles, out of those appraising looks that stripped her bare even though she stood naked before him from the start. _

_She thought he would be rougher, for some reason, fooled by the power and strength he clearly possesses; instead, she’s the one doing all the work as he clutches at her back almost desperately, stunned into silence except for his little groans and stuttering breaths against her neck and in her ear. The wings tremble when he does, shiver when he does; an extension of his body as much as his arms and legs, an expression of his emotions as much as his mouth and eyes._

_This isn’t the first time, for her, but she suspects it is for him; so she holds him close and whispers words of praise and encouragement in his ear, and leads his hand to her breasts when he hesitates, and tucks away the memory to cherish it when the already feeble spark of her arranged union will inevitably die._

_She falls apart more than once, and when he does, it’s with her name on his lips, with her hands on his cheeks, with their breaths as one as his face scrunches up under her soothing kisses. The wings tense and lock up around them in perfect tandem with his muscles, with the way his jaw goes slack under her palms. He is what is called an angel, and he is beautiful, and Eve is ready to set fire to paradise for him._

  
  


She’s never touched them, the wings, not even then; a reverence she probably should have directed elsewhere but didn’t. And she’s never asked to see them since coming back, fascinated by how human he looks now, how similar to her, so much so that it deceived her. He’s not like her. He never was.

She had assumed he kept them hidden to mingle with mortals without causing a scene; she didn’t even know they could _change_, matching the face he only recently showed her. His appearance doesn’t really matter to her, but the heartbreak on his face is unbearable to witness.

“Is this- is this what I am now?” Lucifer asks, but Eve isn’t sure he’s really asking her. “Is this what I've always been?” he continues, and to this, to this she can and _must_ reply.

“No!" she tells him in a fervent exhale, taking a tentative step forward with her hands in front of her, trying to be calming. “No, Lucifer, you’ve never-"

“I don’t want to be a monster" he cuts her off, staring up at the deadly-looking claws jutting out from the top of the two arches before the line of the wings curves downwards.

One of his arms shoots angrily to the side to reach for the opposite wing, trying to do what exactly, Eve doesn’t know: can he get hurt if he’s the one inflicting pain to himself? Can he tear them, or break them, or dislocate them? What she knows is that she doesn’t want to find out.

She leaps forward to grab his wrist just in time, fully aware that it isn’t her strength stopping him, but the pleading look in her eyes.

“Please, don’t” she begs him, searching his frantic gaze for a lifeline to hold on to and pull him out of the abyss he’s sinking into. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

He challenges her for a moment, his arm flinching in her grip, fingers opening and closing into a fist and red flames in his eyes, trying to scare her away. His figure towers over hers even more than usual now, the wings so huge he can’t even spread them completely; she would land on her butt if he so much as flapped them, and it’s not hard to imagine those claws pinning someone down and tearing into soft human skin like butter – but not hers, never.

So she challenges him in return, holding his wrist and his gaze, unblinking as she stares into the fire he carries inside. He didn’t show her back then, but she knows now that it’s always been there. When it subsides and disappears, Lucifer sags against her, almost knocking her to the floor with his weight, but she manages to support him and kneel down with him instead.

“Eve,” he whispers in the crook of her neck, just like he did back then, but the sound is broken by sorrow instead of pleasure and the contrast is jarring, almost terrifying. “_Eve_.”

There is more stubble on his face and product in his now-straightened hair but his face feels the same when he buries it there and cries, tears of grief replacing the droplets of the Garden's waterfall. She cries with him, for him, for them, for whatever this means going forward. If he can’t control what his wings look like, what about the rest of him? What other things can’t he control?

She thought they could keep the party going in Hell when the time would come, but she sees now that there won’t be any party: that being the Devil is more than playing the part, more than singling out criminals and beating them up in the dead of night to feel the rush of righteous punishment, the excitement of getting away with it, of being _above_ it.

Because they didn’t get away with it. _Lucifer_ didn’t get away with it, and she won’t either.

Hell will come for her, and there might be a winged, oblivious creature greeting her at the door, stripped of all that made him human, all that made him holy, reduced to primal urges and needs.

“We can stop" she tells him, rocking him back and forth once again, this time like a child instead of a lover; like the many, many children she brought into the world and lost over the years. “We don’t have to keep doing it, we can stop and... I'm sure they’ll go away, you’ll see.”

She is not sure, of course, but she hopes Lucifer won’t sense the hesitation in her voice, the fear in her tone at the prospect of this being the first step of a transformation they won’t be able to stop, a sentence they brought on themselves. He seems too busy trying not to hyperventilate, so she helps him by stroking soothing circles on his naked back, under where the bat-like wings sprout, and telling him to breathe, “Just breathe, Lucifer, it’s okay, just breathe for me.”

  
  


_“So He's really casting you out" he says with cold understanding, watching her as she gathers a bunch of fruits in a makeshift bag made of skins, one last concession before being thrown out into the world. “He's punishing you for what we did.”_

_He doesn’t really need an answer from her, so Eve just nods minutely with her eyes focused on the task, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand and sniffling angrily. She doesn’t know who she’s mad at the most: at Adam for not being enough, at Lucifer for showing up, at herself for not resisting, at God for not forgiving. Basically, she’s mad at everyone._

_“I'm sorry" Lucifer offers unhelpfully after a long moment, the kind of words Eve would have never expected to hear from the prideful being she knows he is, and somehow, they are enough to make her snap._

_“Are you?” she asks in a venomous tone, looking him in the eye for the first time, so harshly that he flinches on the spot._

_“Eve-"_

_“Did you know this would happen? Did you... seduce me on purpose?”_

_It’s unfair to him, she knows it is: it really didn’t take that much seducing, to be honest. But it’s easy to use him to vent, because she knows she won’t get to use him for anything else, probably ever again. The flash of guilt in his eyes, as brief as it is, only makes her angrier, as well as the shock on his face at how aggressive she can be: so unexpected of sweet, accomodating Eve who always nods in agreement and does what she can to please._

_When he replies, he looks ashamed. “I wanted to make Him angry, in the beginning,” he confesses, “but only for a moment. After I saw you, after I talked to you, I... I just wanted to give you what you desired. And you desired me, did you not?”_

_There is no smugness behind the question, no bragging or boasting in his demeanor: it’s just a question, and Eve would never answer him with a lie._

_“I did, and I don’t regret it" she announces, more to God Himself than to His rebel son, her chin lifted in one last act of defiance that can’t do any further damage at this point. “I'm not sorry. I'm just... scared. I have no idea what’s out there.”_

_Her face crumbles under the sudden weight of her worries, under the magnitude of the change that’s been forced upon her. She looks away from the angel she gave herself to, intent on not letting him see her tears, on not showing yet another weakness to him. That’s also the reason her body is now covered: sure, a perilous journey lies ahead, but she won’t deny that the skins and furs also help her feel less vulnerable than she is._

_“I'm... I'm sure your husband will protect you" Lucifer replies sort of awkwardly, his inadequate attempt at comforting her: he doesn’t volunteer to be the one to protect her, because he never stays on Earth for long – he told her his brother will come get him soon, as he always does, as he did after their shared sinning. And it’s okay, Eve didn’t expect him to gather her in his arms and sweep her off her feet, but..._

_“Is this all you have to say?”_

_His nostrils flare at the accusation, his chin high and exposing the long, pale, freckled column of his neck. He swallows, then flaps his wings to land right in front of her, her hair swaying with the gust of air that accompanies his movement. The bag of fruit falls to the ground when he cups her cheeks in his hands and kisses her fervently, swallowing her surprise in a sharp intake of breath._

_Eve kisses back with all the passion she can muster: she knows this is goodbye. Lucifer sneaks one arm around her waist and pulls her close, a show of true comfort and affection in his desperate kisses, and Eve willingly accepts it because she understands that he doesn’t know how to put it into words yet, or that maybe he never will._

_She gives up and lets herself cry in his embrace when their lips part. Lucifer wipes her tears away with his thumbs and tells her to breathe when the sobs seem to become too overwhelming._

_“Just breathe, Eve. Just breathe for me.”_

  
  


“It’s not enough to stop" Lucifer finally whispers once he’s able to pull air into his lungs again. He lifts his face from her neck to stare at her with a sudden realization in his eyes. “I need to fix this. Maybe- maybe if I don’t hurt him, if I deliver him to them unharmed and let them punish him...”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, and doesn’t include her in the statement. He still needs to do this alone, like he said, so Eve doesn’t insist.

“Okay,” she soothes, cupping his cheek and smiling at him, too endeared by his hopeful expression to argue with his reasoning even if she wanted to. After everything, and despite the fact that she should know better, she still finds herself agreeing to whatever he has to say. “Okay, that sounds like a good start.”

She wants to kiss him, so much, but for some reason she stops herself. She doesn’t think his heart would really be in it. She doesn’t want to be confronted with the unmistakable confirmation that he blames her for what he has become. So she settles for brushing his hair away from his forehead, and helping him up when he stands even though he doesn’t seem to really need it.

The wings, _these_ wings, produce no heat and give no comfort, not even when Lucifer hugs her goodnight before she can head out of the bathroom. He keeps them strained as far away from her body as possible, the veiny leather pulled tight, such a difference from the feathery cocoon she was once surrounded by, trading lazy kisses in the afterglow, with her angel boneless and pliant under her eager lips.

But he’s not her angel anymore. She’s not even sure he’s her Devil, she’s not even sure he is _hers_.

Yet when he leaves some time later, after Eve has gotten rid of the shards of broken glass, she still walks into the bathroom to fix the mess his wings made – another practical task for her to complete, another simple thing she can do to make his life easier.

She picks up the toothbrushes from the floor and throws them in the bin.

Tomorrow, she’ll make sure to get new ones, just in case.


End file.
